Lord of Snow and Ice Read online

  Words spilled from his lips, syllables of ancient tongues summoning forces from phantasmagorical realms. With a final, guttural inflection, Stellan flew across the river, the tips of his boots skimming the water’s surface. At the far bank, he jumped nimbly over a boulder and ran up the slope.

  A putrid smell washed over him. The sickening scent suggested a mountain of deer carcasses dripping with rancid fat in the summer’s hot sun. He covered his nose and mouth with a gloved hand. But now, at least, he knew his adversary.

  As so often was the case, the whole encounter made him ill–physically ill, but also emotionally. This foul creature had no right to invade such healthy, wholesome land. Furthermore, it represented all he held in contempt about his own kind. Yet the ignorance of Aldebaran’s citizens troubled him only slightly less. Fools, all of them!

  Before he could catch his breath, the creature reared at least ten feet into the air. A lolling, cactus-like appendage formed some kind of antennae. Too many bristly, clicking pincers to count made a madcap of its head. Undoubtedly they were poisonous. Its red-slashed hide leaked sallow-colored pus, sloughing off in random bursts. Globs of it now littered the surrounding grass. Slowly, the grotesque brute began swaying back and forth, acting as though time was its slave to abuse with impunity.

  Why, and for what purpose? Any further philosophizing on the vagaries of nature would have to wait, however. Its heinous existence strengthened his resolve to conquer and abolish it. Were he any other man, Stellan might simply have whisked the woman away to safety, where no doubt a kiss of gratitude would be his to claim. Perhaps more. But he wasn’t just any other man. Indeed, some would say he wasn’t a man at all.

  A hungry thought blasted his mind. The alien craving was ancient and primitive and greedy–feed.

  Stellan debated whether he should call out to the woman. Did slumber have such a stranglehold on her senses? How could she be so heedless? But in his heart he knew she could not have known the danger. She was an innocent person simply enjoying nature’s bounty. Over the years, Stellan had done his job almost too well, but as of late his fortune had been changing. This awful development was proof enough of that. Nevertheless, for whatever reason, the woman was clearly unaware of the hoary predator.

  The creature stopped swaying. Stellan caught a flash of bright red. A protrusion he hadn’t noticed before now extended from the creature’s maw. Long. Vein-ridden. Thick. Stellan shaded his eyes against the bright sun as the appendage lengthened. Alien sensations invaded his mind once again. Rape and devour, devour and rape–in no particular order. The intent was all too clear–the creature meant to ravage the woman as fully as it knew how.

  Stellan’s features contorted with disgust, but then a wave of shame coursed through him. Ripe memories of rampant lust echoed in his mind. He’d just had a brush with his own animalistic tendencies. Was he any different than the beast before him? The woman deserved far better regard than he had given.

  He had to act now. If he failed, then his only task would be to rip open the beast’s body to free nothing but a dead woman.

  The creature was drawing its abominable length into a lopsided, uneven coil even as its upper body targeted the woman. The dangling rod of flesh stretched before it like a herald.

  No! Stellan rushed toward it. He lashed his rope around the centipede’s head. He’d force it away from the woman and into the woods. There, hidden from prying eyes, he’d destroy it.

  That was the plan, anyway.

  Stellan pulled hard—and crashed to the ground. Sharp stones dug into his back. He gritted his teeth against the pain. He dug his ankles into the ground and pulled again. The rope grew taut. His feet carved deep grooves in the soft earth, yet the creature moved only a few hand-lengths.

  It’s useless. This damnable thing is too strong! He would have to kill it first.

  Stellan lashed the rope to a nearby tree. He rummaged in his satchel for the needles with bulbous gray tips. Moving quickly, he inserted them into the creature’s flesh. Then he retreated to a safe distance.

  The monstrosity twitched. So hungry, came the thought, followed by a questing probe. It turned around, seeking the source of disturbance. Then Stellan’s neutralizer began coursing through its body, infusing it with a searing, thaumaturgic fire. Its primitive mind broadcast an onslaught of excruciating pain.

  But it didn’t die.

  Damn! Distracted by convulsions, at least the creature would be easier to wrangle. Stellan untied the rope.

  The creature’s talon-studded tail shot toward him. A gust ruffled Stellan’s hair as he dodged it. His only chance for control would be to tie the thing into a great knot of rope and sinewy body. Stellan leaped back, his gaze never straying from the unearthly chimera. He tossed an additional loop of rope around the creature’s upper body. Would it be enough?

  It whipped around to face him. Multiple pincers along its midsection began clicking. The undulating mass slithered forward, coiling, tightening, mandibles stretched wide.

  The centipede lunged, aiming for his head. Stellan pulled hard on the rope and shifted to his right. Sharp mandibles clamped upon a nearby tree.

  Stellan drew a small dagger from its sheath. With a quick downward stab he made a deep puncture in the scaly hide. Dark green ichor swelled from the point of contact. The creature shrieked and released its hold on the tree.

  The dense blanket of pines harbored deep shadows–all the better for two dark forces to clash. Stellan redoubled his efforts at pulling the creature after him.

  But the bedeviled vermin grew shrewder with each passing second. Even as it fought off Stellan, another part of it somehow kept slithering back toward the woman.

  “Wake up!” he shouted at her while dodging the creature’s jabs. “Wake up! Get away before you’re killed, woman! There’s danger here, danger!”

  On and on he roared. Soon he noticed the place where she had lain was nothing more than flattened grass. But he didn’t dare allow himself relief until he saw her leaving or he killed the creature, whichever came first.

  With a great heave, he coerced the sprawling, twisted mass farther into the woods. Pine needles scratched his face and for a few alarming moments the low hanging branches obscured his vision. All he could hear was the creature’s ominous chorus of clicks and hisses.

  His opponent thrashed violently. Stellan sensed its rage and frustration. The rope began slipping through his hands. He desperately held the last few lengths, but it was precious little leverage. As he grasped for new ideas he witnessed an unexpected sight–the woman stood at the edge of the woods. She was tugging her dress onto her shoulders and peering among the trees. What in the name of the heavens was she doing? Why wasn’t she running away?

  “Hello? Who’s there?” She cupped her mouth. “Who’s in there?” she said loudly.

  Annoyance burned a frown upon his face as he sidestepped one of the creature’s darting pincers. She was calling out a greeting? Madness!

  “Run away, you fool,” he shouted back. “Run and don’t stop!”

  Still, she hesitated. This was growing tedious. Stellan couldn’t contain a venomous beast and indulge a curious sprite at the same time. He uttered an incantation–a basic one, but all he could spare at the moment. A small yellow flare appeared. Narrowing his eyes, he sent it hurtling through the woods. The impact ignited a branch by her shoulder. After one look at the consuming flame, she turned and bolted. Stellan knew the expression of shock and fear etched upon her face would haunt him in nightmares forever.

  Regardless, he had a task to complete. Now that the woman was no longer a liability, Stellan could prepare his final attack. He focused his mind, drawing the eldritch energy about him. The surrounding air crackled with black discharge as he unsheathed his weapon of last resort.

  He raised the roughly soldered metal tube and aimed it at the creature. Propelled by magick, three nut-sized pellets shot forth. Within seconds they unleashed their power, incinerating the beast without mercy. Stella
n moved upwind of the foul stench, watching in silent vigil as the obsidian fires consumed first the rotten hide and then melted its internal organs. By the end, neither pincer nor protuberance was left unburned.

  As the flames withered down into a messy lattice of ashes, remorse filled him. Despite his shield of bitterness, he missed the woman already. He lamented the fact that he’d not even had the courage to introduce himself, or ask her name. A heavy heart dragged behind as he gathered his belongings and returned to his horse.

  While his steed drank its fill at the river, Stellan consumed a meal of dried meat. He intended to patrol for a few more hours and would venture deeper into Aldebaran territory than usual given his recent encounter with that abomination. Once full, he emptied the trench of its contents and filled the gaping hole with dirt. His steed faced an arduous journey with the extra weight, but better a little muscle strain than discovery of a certain sorcerer’s intentions. He quickly bathed to remove the sweat and grime from his body.

  Once mounted, Stellan guided his horse northeast. He did not look back. Instead, he rode on, a dour, black streak against the vivid landscape. Resolve burned in him, more than any day during his untold years of crusading. The woman symbolized everything good and pure in the lands, everything worth saving from the vile ambitions of his clan. Even though Stellan could never know the beauty’s name, be with her, or see her again, he vowed to protect her.

  Stellan knew he would continue protecting her–silent, invisible, and beyond her knowledge, until the day he died.

  Chapter 2

  Duke Lionel of Belleressort led the charge of seven riders and their horses across the northern hunting grounds of Aldebaran. Rumbling hooves announced their presence as they streaked across the valley. Panicked rabbits sprinted for their burrows. A sea of multicolored birds took flight in all directions.

  With a collective determination they advanced, leaping and lunging after their elusive prey. The intended target was a white stag, one of only seven thought to be left in the world. It was a magnificent beast built of solid muscle and a flowing mane white as winter’s first snow. The animal sprang through a sea of tall grass, all of which magically parted before its slender legs struck even a single blade. It was all Lionel and his men could do to keep up, for the stag moved so fast it left a stream of blue radiance trailing in its wake.

  Nevertheless, Lionel rode on, undaunted. They had been chasing it for an hour, and with good reason. For as anyone worth his salt in basic necromancy knew, the essence culled from such an animal’s tail alone could extend one’s life many a year–perhaps even decades.

  Now this is a hunt! Give us your best, oh mighty beast, for soon I shall have you stabled and tamed in the bit of my golden bridle. Lionel broke into a broad smile as he thought about this animal in his stables–oh, how it would drive the others mad with envy! They should gnash their teeth bitterly and curse his name behind his back as gardens of young ladies swooned before him. Ah, yes, this would certainly be a day long remembered.

  As the thunder continued across the verdant dale, he savored the sharp, woody scent of the wind as it whistled past his ears and snapped through his regal coiffure’s honey-blond locks. Therefore he missed the telltale signs of gullies and other obstacles pockmarking the uncivilized ground. The duke’s horse swerved without warning to avoid a particularly nasty patch of brambles.

  Lionel tightened his grip on the reins. Heh. True, perhaps he should be far more consumed with the path ahead than with his dashing good looks. His favorite cousin was bound to agree, seeing as how she was always ready with a witty chastisement–or two, or three–about his grandiosity and inflated ego.

  But then, what was the point of worrying when a rider like him looked this marvelous? Forgive me, Clarysa, but I am too far gone! Lionel’s smile widened. What tales minstrels would weave of this day! What legends would spring from it!

  He thought back to the comely young woman he had met at the ball the night before. He could barely recall her name, but he remembered the gorgeous red tresses that had spilled across her creamy white bosom so enticingly. She’d spotted him from across the room, and he her. No doubt she had been staring at him with those smoldering cobalt eyes for simply the longest time. What would she say upon catching wind of this adventure? What a sight he would make for her today, his red cape arched gracefully in the air, his broad chest a veritable shield against the elements. Yes, incomparably impressive! He would have to visit the young wench soon and tell her all about it.

  The laws of reality arrested Lionel’s fantasy. His horse vaulted over a muddy hole. The movement jerked him forward as the sound of nearby hooves crashed against his ears. First left, then right. Lionel quickly glanced about him to get his bearings. The gaining horse belonged to Prince Edward, his cousin and heir to the Aldebaran throne. Edward’s dark features were clustered in a resolute expression. He clearly meant to overtake Lionel at any cost.

  Not this time, you bugger. Lionel’s ego still bore scars from the last few hunts when Edward had soundly trumped him.

  “You ride like my sisters!” Edward shouted. A smug look plastered his face as he whipped past Lionel.

  Lionel kicked his horse into a gallop. Neck and neck, the two riders pulled ahead of the others. The edge of another forest surfaced in the horizon, but they did not slow. He found himself distracted; the competition now involved who was the better rider with the faster horse. The stag was forgotten, banished from his mind. Only besting his cousin remained in the forefront of his recently bruised ego. He spurred his steed forward in a mad dash toward the trees ahead, right at the spot the stag had dove into moments earlier.

  Faster and faster his horse sped. The wind tore about his ears, as if shrieking his success. Lionel rode parallel alongside Edward and then passed ahead with ease. To this victory, he said nothing, for Lionel felt he was not one to rub the proverbial salt in another’s wounds. Instead, he simply threw back his head and laughed.

  Edward tossed off some other quip, which Lionel supposed was meant to goad him, but the wind snapped up the words in its powerful jaws and swallowed them. Even the very elements about them seemed to favor the fair-haired one of Belleressort. And now for the real test. Lionel glanced ahead at the maze of tangled growth. Let’s see you beat me now! I’ll have that stag in my stable yet.

  Before he could relish his victory further, an anguished screech rendered all else mute.

  Lionel brought his horse up too quickly and it reared. Edward, advancing rapidly behind him, banked sharply in avoidance. The other riders slowed and grouped around them haphazardly.

  “What in high blazes was that?” cried Edward.

  Lionel cursed, fighting to regain control of his spooked steed. “It came from the woods ahead,” he announced through gritted teeth. “Confound it, horse! Stop flouncing about like a skittish cat!” His agitated tone did little to assuage the frightened animal beneath him.

  The men stared ahead into the enveloping darkness of branch and leaf, their mouths agape. “Something must have happened to the stag,” said one finally.

  “Probably a wolf,” added another. “Or a mountain lion.”

  A weighted silence poured from the forest. Lionel peered toward the edge. His breathing sounded unnaturally loud, as did the panting of his companions. When he spoke, his words came out flat in the still air. “No mountain lion could capture that stag.” He looked solemnly at his cousin.

  “Maybe the scream was a tactic to scare us off,” said Edward. His voice, too, lacked normal resonance.

  Then Lionel realized what was missing–every single ambient sound. How bizarre. “Well, should we enter here,” he said, gesturing to the uneven path before them, “or split up and–wait, did you hear that?” His right hand immediately shot up, a signal for absolute silence.

  The sound of splintering tree limbs cracked the air.

  Then again.

  And again.

  A heavy thumping sound soon followed. Edward motioned for the
men to regroup. Without hesitation, they formed a line. Shallow ruts developed as the horses, nostrils flaring, dug into the grass with their hooves.

  Some of the trees shook, scattering their leaves like flies in a maelstrom.

  Then…nothing.

  Lionel waited with his men, hardly daring to breathe. Finally…

  He blew out a breath. “Oh, it’s nothing but an earth tremor. Let’s continue, shall we?”

  Edward threw up his hands. “It wouldn’t kill you to wait another minute.”

  “Perhaps for you, but my minutes are very precious.” Lionel urged his horse forward at a trot, but it took some doing as the animal didn’t share his confidence.

  He had just reached the shadow of the nearest branch when a particularly loud crunch shattered the air about him. A tremendous growl followed. Low at first–guttural. This was followed by mile-deep intonations, the bass of which seemed to shake the very earth around him. Lionel stiffened. As his horse eased slowly back, he did not move to stop it.

  He made a quarter turn, attempting to keep one eye on the forest. “I…think we may have something here.”

  A colossal, bloated creature advanced from between two trunks. It rose up on two massive chunks of hind legs. Viscid slabs of flesh ringed them from hips to paws. Bits of leaves and twigs clung to darkened flesh that perhaps once had sprouted fur. Oozing red sores as wide as a man’s chest spotted the creature, which was now moving considerably faster as it neared the clearing.

  Lionel’s gloved hand flew to his face. A preposterously foul odor preceded the animal. It smelled worse than a sop barrel. Worse even than the entrails of a freshly slaughtered animal. Lionel wondered where he had encountered the scent before. Then he remembered.

  It smelled like death.

  But despite the unmistakable odor and loathsome hide, the creature lived. Its mucus-coated eyes fixated on Lionel and his horse.